170 WHALING AND FISHING. 



nected with it. The bank is about two miles long, 

 by half a mile wide, and apparently lies just above 

 the water's edge. With a stiff top gallant breeze, 

 mcl as we had, the surf did not break entirely 

 over it, but it would have required but a slight 

 increase of wind to force the breakers over the 

 shallow barriers. The low, dull roar of the surf 

 seemed a funeral dirge over the graves of many 

 poor fellows who have here struggled for the last 

 time with death. Not a tree or shrub, not even 

 a blade of grass, could be seen on the entire bank; 

 nothing but sand and breakers. 



As I thought how easily, even in broad day- 

 light, a vessel might run upon this hidden dan- 

 ger, lying, as it does, just in the track of ships 

 bound to some of the ports of Madagascar, and 

 as I thought further how hopeless would be 

 the fate of those who should be shipwrecked here, 

 an inward prayer arose that such might never be 

 my fate. 



" That's a bad place to get on," said the old man 

 to me. 



" Yes, sir." 



"There's a story told of this St. Mary's shoal, as 

 it is called, that makes me shudder every time I see 

 the cursed place. Some ten or a dozen years ago, 

 slavers used occasionally to get a cargo on this 

 east coast, all the vigilance of the French and 

 English cruisers to the contrary notwithstanding. 

 There was then a slave factory at Nos Beh, (now 

 a French settlement on the northern extremity of 



